


Swapped

by persephoneggsy



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Amputee Rhys, Bodyswap, Canon-Typical Violence, Fanboy Rhys (Borderlands), Jack being Jack, Jack is a little creepy at points, Kissing, M/M, Rhys's cybernetics are cool damnit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 15:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19211869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneggsy/pseuds/persephoneggsy
Summary: Soulmate AU where, upon the youngest soulmate's 25th birthday, the pair of soulmates swap bodies, and can only swap back once they physically touch each other.Handsome Jack has gone almost twenty years without the Swap happening to him. He figured he just didn't have a soulmate.He's wrong.





	Swapped

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote two Yuri on Ice fics like this and honestly? I just love body swap fics. They're so fun lol

* * *

 

 

Jack awakes to the sight of himself. _Everywhere._

Jolting, he reacts quickly, not really thinking about the _how_ or _why_ or even _what the fuck_ , his hand darting under the pillow to reach for the gun he keeps stashed there in case of emergencies, except –

There’s nothing there.

Also, his right hand isn’t there, either.

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Jack rapidly sits up, taking stock of his surroundings. A rather impressive number of posters of himself line the walls of what seems to be a shoe box of a bedroom. Some are even limited edition, which. Well. Jack can appreciate taste, but not when it seems he’s been kidnapped and… amputated?

It isn’t until he looks down at his new stump of a shoulder that he realizes – the scars around the stump are at least several years old, and there’s a wide port full of wiring and tech that would’ve taken an extensive procedure to install. His other arm, the only one he has at the moment, is covered in a strange blue tattoo that he doesn’t remember getting.

On top of all that, his skin is too pale, his body is too skinny, and he’s practically hairless.

It clicks in his head, and he throws his head back with a groan. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. _Fuck._

He’s gone through the Swap.

Nineteen years, nineteen _freaking_ _years_ have passed without his Swap, and he’d long since resigned himself to the fact that he just didn’t have a soulmate. But _no,_ apparently the universe has decided that now is the time, which means his soulmate – who’s body he’s currently inhabiting, _goddamn it –_ has just turned twenty-five today, and that Jack is therefore stuck with a friggin’ baby as his other half.

He snorts to himself, muttering under his breath, then pausing. He says a few more words – Hyperion, Helios, Handsome Jack, fuckballs – just to hear what his young soulmate’s voice sounds like. It’s actually not bad, kinda deep but pleasantly smooth, rumbling in his throat. If Jack were into the idea of soulmates at all, he’d be grateful that his doesn’t have a grating voice.

But anyway. Jack’s not into the whole soulmate deal, like at _all_ , so this is more a pain in the ass than anything else.

More importantly, if he’s here, then his soulmate is probably in his body up in the penthouse of the space station. Is Jack even on Helios, still?

He grimaces at the posters on the wall, his own face staring charmingly back, and thinks that at least the guy will probably get the shock of a lifetime. Before Jack kills him. After he gets his own body back, of course.

Soulmates are a liability, as far as Jack’s concerned. Plus, there’s no way the kid won’t see his unmasked face when he wakes up – if he hadn’t already – and the universe be damned, that’s just not something Jack can let slide. Reputation and security, and all that jazz.

Throwing back the covers, he goes to swing his legs over the side of the bed so he can get the fuck out of here, but he stops and stares down at the rest of his soulmate’s body. Long, outrageously long columns of pale, hairless skin stretch out on the bed, well-toned and honestly sexy as fuck.

Jack frowns in offense at the limbs, then considers them thoughtfully. Maybe he can get a fuck in before he kills the kid. It’d be a shame to waste such a good pair of legs.

Also, the _fuck_ were those socks on his feet?

Muttering to himself again, he stands up, stretching out the rest of his sleep-induced aches with a quiet curse. Glancing around the room, Jack spots a charging station on the other side of the bed, housing an older model of one of Hyperion’s own cybernetic arms. Hm. Explains the shoulder port, then.

After a moment’s consideration, he walks over and picks up the arm, examining it closely. There’s no doubt it’s an older model, but considering the small-ass room he’s in, his soulmate probably can’t afford the newer ones. Still, he can tell it’s well-maintained, and there’s suddenly a begrudging feeling of respect for the kid; he appreciates a good product, at least.

It’s not hard to figure out how to attach the arm to the shoulder port, but when it clicks into place, Jack jumps, not used to the sensation. He flexes the fingers on his cybernetic hand and nods in approval when the response time is within expected parameters. Maybe he’ll cut the scientists in Cybernetics some slack – this is pretty neat shit.

Suddenly, an image flares up in Jack’s left eye, making him jump again, blinking several times to clear it away, but he slowly relaxes when he realizes it’s just a heads-up display showing him the time, date, and a motivational quote attributed to Jack that he’s pretty sure he’s never actually said.

Huh. An ECHOeye, too?

Jack sees a door left slightly ajar, and tiled floor just beyond it, leading him to conclude that it’s a bathroom. Now impossibly intrigued, he wanders in, flicking on the lights and turning to the mirror in front of the sink to get his first proper look at his soulmate.

He won’t say his breath catches in his throat, because he’s _Handsome Jack,_ thank you very much. But… Damn.

The reflection staring back at him is definitely a young man. A young man with a long but boyish face, strong eyebrows, messy brown hair that actually looks kinda soft to the touch, and, just like Jack, heterochromatic eyes. But whereas the CEO’s eyes were green and blue, the kid’s are brown and blue, and the blue is quite obviously the ECHOeye.

Jack pauses, then whistles, a finger coming up to trace around the neural port at his temple. Then he purses his lips, which look unreasonably kissable. Jack can already imagine them wrapped around his dick and – yeah, okay, he’s definitely getting a fuck out of this kid before he croaks.

He focuses for a moment, and thankfully the heads-up display disappears, showing that the ECHOeye works properly too. He’s… impressed, he has to admit. A cybernetic arm, yeah, that’s cool, but they’re kind of a dime-a-dozen compared to the ECHOeye. Jack remembers that the survival rate for the surgery had only peaked at twenty percent. Most people either bled out, suffered debilitating migraines and begged for the sweet release of death, or lost their vision permanently.

Not his soulmate, apparently.

Inwardly, Jack can’t help but preen. Of course he’d get a young, hot, deceptively tough guy for his soulmate. Maybe he _won’t_ kill him right away. Or maybe even at all – maybe the universe is finally trying to apologize for all the shit it’s put him through so far.

He guesses that’ll all depend on what his soulmate does when he finds him.

Jack moves to turn away from the mirror, before another thought enters unbidden into his head. He looks down at the blue striped boxers his soulmate had worn to bed and smirks, suddenly yanking the flimsy cloth down and examining the goods he finds underneath.

He snorts. _Aww._

Well, to be fair, a small dick is kind of a plus in Jack’s book. He’d have been pissed if this twink was more hung than him. Turning around, he also looks at the kid’s ass, and this time he doesn’t hesitate to whistle. Round, pert, and smooth to the touch. _Hell yeah._ Does he wax?

Jack is brought out of his thoughts by a knock – it’s coming from the bedroom door.

“Yo, uh,” a muffled voice says on the other side, “Rhys? Are you in there?”

The CEO hums, filing away his newest tidbit of information. His soulmate’s name, apparently, is _Rhys._ Weird, but okay.

He pads over to the door and pulls it open, only to be greeted by a short-ass man, probably not any older than Rhys himself, who blinks at the sudden movement, then glances down.

Shortstack _yelps,_ covering his eyes. “Bro, what the hell? Why are you naked?!”

Snorting, Jack reaches down and pulls up Rhys’s underwear, which had been tangled loosely around one ankle. Bye, tiny dick.

“I’m decent now, Shortie,” he snickers. “Who the hell are you and where am I?”

Slowly, the short guy lowers his hands, eyeing Jack with caution. “Okay… Definitely not Rhys, then. You’re his soulmate?”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Duh. Answer my questions, Tiny Tim.”

The other man glares at him. “Oh, great. You’re a dick.”

Jack shrugs. Were he in any other situation, he’d choke the guy’s head off and be done with it, but as it stands, he’s still riding off the high of having a hot-as-fuck cybernetic soulmate, and he _does_ need his questions answered.

Shortie sighs. “Right, so. We’re on Helios, in the Residential Sector, Area 8. I’m Vaughn, and your soulmate’s name is Rhys. We’re roommates.”

Jack hums, turning back around into Rhys’s room. “So you’re Hyperion, right? What do you guys do?”

“Uh.” Vaughn steps into the room as well, watching with furrowed brows as Jack starts rummaging through Rhys’s drawers. “I’m in Accounting, Rhys is a coder for Propaganda.”

The CEO laughs. “Explains the posters, then.” He pulls out a faded t-shirt, obviously well-loved, with a cartoony drawing of Jack’s own face on it. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling it on, and then diving back into the drawers for pants.

“Yeah…” Vaughn takes another step inside, and leans against one of the walls. “Rhys is, uh, a big Handsome Jack fan. Just a warning. Though I kinda get the feeling that you are too…?”

“You could say that,” Jack says cryptically. He grabs some yellow sweatpants and tugs them on over Rhys’s long-ass legs. “He’s not super creepy about it, is he? Like he stays up till four in the morning on the ECHOnet auction site trying to buy m- Jack’s used tissues or whatever?”

Vaughn grimaces. “No, no, he’s not one of _those_ fans, thank god. I mean, we like to tease him, but he’s definitely not that bad.”

“Cool. Anyway, I’m gonna go switch us back. Buh-bye.”

He breezes past Vaughn, who sputters like a broken sprinkler at the blunt dismissal, and moves to follow after him.

“Wh – Hey! What about you?”

Jack stops, turning to look at him. “What about me?”

“I mean, what’s your name? Your job? I’m assuming you’re Hyperion, too?”

“Why the fuck do you need to know?”

Vaughn crossing his arms over his chest, his glare returning in full force. Jack stifles a laugh. The little shrimp thinks he’s being intimidating.

“Because Rhys is my best bro, and just because you’re his soulmate doesn’t mean you get an automatic pass from me. He’s been waiting a long time for you, asshole, and I need to be sure you were worth the wait.”

Jack rolls his eyes again, but a part of him is surprised at the display of loyalty. Is this guy really Hyperion if he’s willing to risk Jack’s wrath for his buddy? Then again, he doesn’t know Jack is, well, _Jack._

“Look, Shrimpy,” he starts, delighting in the way Vaughn’s jaw tightens, “I’m almost two decades older than your ‘bro’, so if anyone’s been waiting, it’s _me.”_ He waits for the shocked expression to settle on Vaughn’s face before continuing, gesturing to his soulmate’s body. “How do I know Rhysie here is worth my time?”

After the shock passes, Vaughn glowers at him. “That’s for _your_ best friend to find out. I only care about Rhys.”

“You’re loyal,” Jack nods. “I can appreciate that. It’s stupid as hell here, but I appreciate it anyway. ‘M sure Rhysie does, too. But look, I’m a busy guy, and if Rhys is an idiot he might literally screw this company over while I’m stuck in his body. Soooo.”

With that he turns on his heel and heads out of the small apartment, but not before he hears Vaughn’s voice again.

“Wait, are you an executive or something?”

Grinning, Jack opens the front door and turns around to face the shorter man one last time.

“I’m _the_ executive, little man. I’m Handsome goddamn Jack.”

And he slams the door on Vaughn’s hilariously gob-smacked face.

 

* * *

 

Sucky thing about the Residential Sector, Area 8, is that it’s the farthest sector from the elevators that can take Jack right up to the penthouse, where he assumes and hopes Rhys is. Hopefully he’s not a total dumbass and tried to do Jack’s job. He probably should’ve asked Vaughn if Rhys was an opportunistic little fucker. They’re common, on Helios.

He strides across the Hub of Heroism, making his way to the correct set of elevators, ignoring the bewildered stares of the people he passes. He probably looks weird, walking among the well-groomed and impeccably-dressed employees that strive to live up to the Hyperion standard, while he’s there in a cartoon t-shirt, sweatpants, and stupid socks, his hair an absolute mess.

But whatever. It’s not _his_ body, anyway.

He’s almost to the elevator, wondering idly what he’ll say to Rhys first when he sees him in person, when a hand closes around his flesh arm and _yanks him back,_ causing him to give an undignified yelp. Luckily, he only stumbles and doesn’t fall flat on his (Rhys’s) face, and he whips his head around to give a hateful glare to whoever the _fuck_ just did that.

A familiar face is sneering down at him – the sneer itself isn’t familiar, because usually this guy gives Jack the same doe-eyed stupid look all his lame lackeys do when he graces them with his presence. It’s… Vasquez? He thinks? Honestly, he’s just been calling him Wallethead for the past few years, even though he’s long since gotten hair implants to cover up his freaky noggin.

Anyway, Wallethead is currently looking at Jack – or Rhys, he supposes – with thinly-veiled contempt, and just a hint of amusement.

“Rhys!” he says, tone faux-pleasant. “What a surprise, running into you so early in the morning! And…” His gaze travels up and down Rhys’s body, and Jack feels gross in his soulmate’s stead. “… Interesting fashion choice, today.”

Jack huffs, not in the mood to deal with the idiot, but also not equipped with any sort of weapon to deal with him quick enough. “Look, I’m not – !”

Vasquez fucking _interrupts_ him. “Anyway, Rhys, glad I caught you. Remember those reports I told you were due on Friday? _Weeeeeell,_ turns out I was wrong. Whoopsie. They’re actually due tomorrow. And the new batch of prop vids need to be polished up and sent to me for approval, so, you know, try not to fuck them up. I need you to hop to it ASAP, okay, bud?”

Jack stares at him. Jesus, the guy’s actually reminding him of fucking Tassiter, who would assign Jack ridiculous amounts of work whenever he was feeling spiteful. Which was like, all the time.

“Are you _shitting me?”_ he shouts, making Wallethead flinch in shock, as well as draw the attention of some passers-by.

Just as soon as the surprise come, it flickers away, replaced by a smug grin. “What, are you not up for it, Rhys? That’s a damn shame. Guess you don’t want that promotion after all.” He hums, gaze once more roaming Jack’s, er, Rhys’s body. His grin turns into a leer. “But I guess there are other ways you can _get ahead.”_

Yeah, okay, no, _fuck_ this guy.

Jack rears the cybernetic arm back, hand curling into a fist, and faster than you can blink, he gives a quick, vicious jab aimed right at Vasquez’s face. He hears a sickening, satisfying _crunch_ as metal hits the cartilage in the asshole’s nose, and he watches as blood spurts forth from the resulting wound, spraying the machinery with red.

Vasquez falls to his knees, screaming as he goes to clutch his nose. The crowd surrounding them steps back, obviously shocked, but also morbidly intrigued. Jack grins. Sometimes he loves his dumb little lackeys.

He calmly walks to Vasquez, gripping his stupid hair implants to make the man look up at him. As soon as their eyes meet, Vasquez snarls.

“What the _fuck,_ Rhys?! I’ll have you fucking airlocked for that!”

He cuts off with a gasp when Jack tightens his grip, threatening to rip the implants out with a simple tug of Rhys’s handy cybernetic arm.

“Here’s the thing, shit-for-brains,” Jack begins, voice low and dangerous. It sounds odd in Rhys’s tone, but it still has the desired effect of shutting Vasquez the fuck up. “Me? I’m not Rhys. I’m his _soulmate._ And honestly, I don’t think I much like how you treat him. So as soon as I’m back in _my_ body, you and I are gonna have a little _chat._ Alright,” he leans in, baring his teeth in what he hopes is a terrifying grin on Rhys’s face, “ _Wallethead?”_

Immediately, Vasquez’s face falls, going from indignant to horrified in milliseconds.

“Wh – No! No way, that’s impossible!”

Jack lets go of his head and shoots him double finger guns, grin widening as Vasquez flinches. Then he turns and continues on his way.

Everyone in the Hub who witnessed that little show gives him a wide berth until he reaches the elevator. _Heh._ Even in a twink’s body, he can damn well make it clear who’s in charge of this joint.

This whole soulmate thing is doing wonders for Jack’s ego.

He continues riding his high as he rides the elevator up, absently rattling off the override password to get to the penthouse. Jack steps off after a few minutes, the elevator leading into a long hallway, at the end of which is Jack’s front door.

The walk over there is shorter than he remembers (Rhys’s long legs are probably the reason why). When he reaches the door, he gives another override password to unlock the door, and quickly hurries inside.

He’s had the whole elevator ride to think about what he might find upon entering his penthouse apartment, but he’s not actually prepared for what he does see.

Because, well, he sees _himself,_ which isn’t actually that odd a sight when you take Timothy into account, but he knows for a fact that Tim Tams is taking care of shit for him on Pandora right at this moment, so that means the doppelganger on his sofa can only be Rhys.

Rhys, who’s sitting with his legs tucked up to his chest, chin resting on his (Jack’s?) knees. The mask is on his face, to Jack’s surprise, but even more so than that, _Butt Stallion_ is curled around Rhys on the sofa, her diamond head currently being stroked gently by Rhys, using Jack’s own calloused hands.

Rhys is smiling gently down at the creature, and… Yeah, that’s an expression Jack hasn’t seen on his own face in a _long time._

It doesn’t last long. Rhys looks up, startled, as Jack takes a step and makes a noise, and his eyes grow comically large as he sees his own body standing there. Jack raises an eyebrow, putting his hands on his hips. They just… stare at each other, Rhys with a growing expression of horror and Jack with one of annoyance.

He decides to break the silence, because he has a question that needs immediate answering.

“Did you see it?” he spits, making Rhys flinch. And _geez,_ that’s annoying, watching himself flinch.

“W-What?” Rhys asks, his tone making Jack’s voice high and wobbly. “See what?”

“My _face,_ dumbass!” Jack shouts, stalking forwards.

Rhys shrinks back, and Butt Stallion lifts her head, perturbed at the noise, and the fact that Rhys has stopped petting her.

“I-I didn’t! I swear!”

Jack scoffs. “You expect me to just believe you?”

Rhys swallows nervously. “Y-You have security cameras in your room. You can see for yourself.”

Jack narrows his eyes. “How could you not have seen?”

His soulmate shifts nervously, hand stilled over the pony’s snout. “W-Well… W-When I woke up, the first thing I saw was your – your mask. On the bedside table. At first I thought maybe my soulmate just had a replica or something, but then I noticed the room I was in and the fact that I was literally at the top of the freaking _station,_ and also your horse was there? Eating, uh, the plants in your room? Which I think are plastic?”

“Get to the point, Rhys,” he snaps, refusing to be charmed by the tangent.

“R-Right, so, I kind of freaked out in your bed for a bit, and then I just… put on your mask! It was _waaay_ more advanced than any replica _I’ve_ ever tried, like it just freaking molded to my face – er, your face – and the clasps closed automatically, so - ?” Rhys takes a deep breath. “Then I just… wandered around for a bit until I found a mirror? After that, I had another mini-freak out over the fact that _Handsome Jack_ is apparently my soulmate… Your horse followed me around. I think she likes me?” he finishes, voice trailing off.

Jack, in spite of himself, huffs out a laugh. “She doesn’t meet a lot of people. She still technically hasn’t, considering you’re in _my_ body. Speaking of which.”

Jack reaches out, annoyed but understanding when Rhys flinches again, but he only touches the guy on his bare arm with his flesh hand, and the effect is instantaneous.

Jack feels dizzy, as if the world is shifting around him, and when his blurred vision clears, he finds himself sitting on the couch with Butt Stallion bracketing him. He blinks, looking up to see Rhys, swaying slightly on his feet.

“ _Oohkay,_ wow, that’s super weird,” the younger man grimaces.

Jack smirks at him and pats the space on the sofa beside him. “Yeah, take a seat before you pass out on the floor, cupcake.”

Slowly, and still staring at Jack like he might attack at any moment, Rhys complies. As he does, Jack takes the moment to admire the way Rhys moves in his own body. The cybernetic hand moves a lot more naturally than it had for Jack, fingers curling and uncurling reflexively, and Rhys doesn’t stumble around his legs as he sits tentatively beside Jack.

He watches Rhys nervously run a hand through his hair, pushing it back and out of his face. Hm. That’s actually a pretty good look for him. He wonders if it’s how he normally styles his hair, and if he uses product to help. He probably should’ve poked around his bathroom more, muses Jack.

“So,” Jack starts, breaking the silence again. “Soulmates.”

“Yep,” replies Rhys shakily, staring down at his hands. Behind them, Butt Stallion whinnies and lays her head down on the sofa, apparently ready to take a nap.

“I saw the posters in your room,” says Jack, biting back a laugh at the way Rhys’s head jerks up to stare at him like a skag caught in headlights. He also gestures to Rhys’s shirt. “And, you know. Your roommate told me you were a big fan. I figured you’d be thrilled.”

“Oh god,” Rhys buries his face in his hands. “I am gonna _kill_ Vaughn.”

Snickering, Jack scoots closer to him, putting an arm around Rhys’s shoulder, making the younger man jump.

Jack tuts. “So jittery, pumpkin. C’mon, I’m not gonna kill you.”

Rhys peeks out from between his fingers. Fuck, it’s actually kinda cute.

“You’re not?” he asks, hesitant.

“Nah. I mean, I thought about it. But hey, you’re hot. And, not gonna lie, the cybernetics are intriguing as hell.” Jack leans closer, his breath ghosting over Rhys’s fingers; the kid is trembling in response. “So maybe I’ll give this soulmate thing a try.”

Rhys shudders. “Oh, wow. I… I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Did ya think I was gonna kill you as soon as I stepped through that door?”

“I mean, after you got your body back, yeah? Kinda?”

Jack pointedly ignores the voice in his head telling him that was exactly his plan like, an hour ago, and instead pulls Rhys in closer, savoring the soft squeak and red blush it elicits from the younger man.

“I’m not _heartless,_ Rhysie,” he mock-chides. “That’s like, a major sin against the universe, killing your soulmate.”

“You’re _Handsome Jack,”_ Rhys points out quietly. “You tell the universe to fuck off five times before breakfast.”

Jack actually laughs, like full-on laughs at that, the sound startled out of his throat. It jostles Rhys, but the man just looks up at Jack like he literally holds the answers to life’s greatest questions, and _damn,_ yes, his ego is loving this kid.

“You see, kitten? We’re gonna get along _great_. ‘Sides,” he presses a quick kiss to Rhys’s warm forehead, pulling back before the kid can even register it, “couldn’t waste a cute little ass like yours so soon.”

Rhys turns even redder at that. He averts his eyes again.

“It _is_ a great ass,” Jack persists. “Tiny dick, yeah, but hey, nobody’s perfect. Well. Except me, but I bet you figured that this morning, huh?”

Rhys tenses, looking up at Jack with furrowed brows.

“Did you look at me _naked?”_

“Duh,” says Jack. “Fair’s fair. Only, I noticed I’m wearing clothes right now,” he points a finger to his old t-shirt and pajama pants combo, which Rhys _must’ve_ put on for him, “when I know for a fact that I sleep in the _nude_.”

As he predicted, the fading flush on Rhys’s face returns full-force, making the blue of his ECHOeye really stand out. Rhys lets out a truly pitiful (and arousing, if Jack’s being honest) whine.

“I’m not gonna survive this,” he intones somberly, hanging his head. “I’m gonna die from embarrassment. Or your dick.” He sneaks a furtive glance at Jack, licking his lips. _Ooh._ “If we, uh, get that far?”

“Shit, baby, we can get that far right now.” Jack grins, holding his hand out to Rhys. He wasn’t expecting the kid to be so forward, but fuck, he’s not complaining.

This time, it only takes a moment’s hesitation before Rhys reaches back out with his cybernetic hand, slipping it into Jack’s and allowing the CEO to pull him up off the couch. Butt Stallion adjusts accordingly, her large diamond body rolling over into their previously-occupied spaces. She snorts and waves her mane at them, almost dismissively.

Body thrumming with anticipation, Jack starts tugging Rhys towards his bedroom, only for Rhys to pause. Groaning, Jack looks back at him, finding the younger man staring at his knuckles. His _red_ knuckles.

Oof. Riiiiight.

“W-Why…” Rhys stammers, “why is there _blood_ on my hand?!”

“Oh, yeah.” Jack uses his free hand to awkwardly scratch at his cheek. “I sorta punched your shithead boss on the way over here.”

Rhys’s eyes go wide. “You punched… Wait, you punched _Assquez?!”_

Jack laughs again. “Assquez! That’s fucking great. Haah. Yeah, I decked him. Or, you did, I guess? It was your metal arm that broke his nose.”

“Broke his – !” Rhys cuts himself off with a disbelieving noise. But, to Jack’s amusement, he actually looks… delighted, by the prospect? At least until uncertainty clouds his features again. An expressive guy, Jack’s soulmate. “Am I fired?”

“Psh. No way. _I_ was technically the one who beat his ass, and when I told him who I really was, he almost shit himself. You’re good, baby.”

He watches Rhys’s lips twitch into a small, warm smile. Jack finds himself staring at him, something weird moving in his gut.

“Thank you, Handsome Jack. Sir.”

Jack shakes himself out of his daze. He pulls Rhys in close, their bodies flush against each other. “Ah, ah, none of that. We’re soulmates, Rhysie. Just call me Jack.”

Rhys’s smile doesn’t diminish in the slightest. “Okay, Jack.”

He quirks a grin at the younger man, and, unable to help himself, presses a quick kiss to his lips. They’re soft and full and goddamn, the only part of this he hates so far is that it took almost twenty years to get here. When he pulls back from the kiss, Rhys’s eyelids have fluttered to half-closed, and two hands (one cybernetic, one real flesh-and-blood) curl themselves into the fabric of Jack’s shirt, pulling him back in for another. Jack lets him.

When they part again, Jack murmurs against Rhys’s lips, though he’s mostly speaking to himself.

“Oh, yeah. We’re gonna have _lots_ of fun together.”

Rhys murmurs something unintelligible back, pressing small, soft kisses to Jack’s skin. Jack starts leading them back towards his bedroom, when another thought occurs to him. He presses Rhys up against the wall and, taking advantage of the resulting gasp it gets out of him, sticks his tongue into the younger man’s mouth.

Rhys responds _beautifully,_ opening like a flower under Jack, his own tongue pressing shyly against Jack’s own. Jack kisses him deeply, almost forcefully, but judging by the way Rhys starts to grind his crotch against Jack’s leg, he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

Jack breaks the kiss with a long, satisfied sigh; Rhys is left panting. The older man puts their foreheads together, and he smiles fondly at Rhys – at his _soulmate._

“Happy birthday, Rhysie.”

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> The mental image of Rhys's twink ass acting like he's a badass like Jack but then, like, actually proving it and freaking out the people around him delights me to no end.
> 
> Might do another one of these for Borderlands? I'm into Fiona/Vaughn, and I think that could be a funny situation to find them in - Vaughn waking up on Pandora like "oh god oh geez i'm gonna die here before i even meet my really pretty soulmate" and Fiona waking up on Helios all pissed bc her soulmate's a corporate nerd but also he's weirdly buff and she's kinda into it??


End file.
